


no such thing as a foolproof plan

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Sylvain's self destructive nature, Threesome - M/M/M, Unreliable Narrator, gone wrong, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27170297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The best way to repair Felix and Dimitri's broken friendship is by having them fuck out their issues, or so Sylvain thinks. There is absolutely no way that this plan could backfire in any way whatsoever, right?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 28
Kudos: 115
Collections: Anonymous





	no such thing as a foolproof plan

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a ton of dimisylvix fics where either dimilix or sylvix evolves into a threesome. But what if it would happen the other way around, and Sylvain isn't quite done with self-sabotaging himself?

It's been five months - five beautiful months of unprecedented bliss - since he and Felix got together. 

Sylvain never thought he could find a future with any partner, let alone a guy, let alone _Felix_. But here they are, three months after all the treaties have been signed and Fodlan is at peace at last, sharing more than a bedroll on quiet nights. 

Smitten, he watches Felix, sitting on Dimitri's right. They've slowly settled into the roles they were born for: a King and a Duke, monarch and advisor. Sylvain doesn't even pretend to listen to whatever they're arguing about today - probably something about the restoration efforts after the war, or where to allocate which funds. Sylvain doesn't really care, he's not here for that. His father is alive and well, so Sylvain holds no sway on this council table, besides his lifelong relationship with the two most important people in the room. 

It's no secret that Felix is the only reason he is in Fhirdiad and not in Sreng or Gautier. And Sylvain is more than happy being a proverbial trophy wife to the Duke, watching him with unrestrained desire. Felix looks pretty when he gets worked up, and nobody in the world can rile him up better than Dimitri. 

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, he blinks. It's true, of course, he's known them both too long to deny that. But there's something in the way they sit, the way their bodies are turned towards each other, that makes him doubletake. Dimitri is king, and a good one at that, beholden to all of his subjects. But there is something in his eyes that is different when he looks at Felix. 

Something he never was quite able to name until right here, right now. In the light of the slowly setting winter sun, the way Dimitri’s entire posture brightens like a star whenever Felix shows but the slightest hint of approval could not be more telling; he desires Felix.

(Sylvain knows the feeling.)

Dimitri reaches out, touching Felix’s hand only for a second to get his attention. How could Sylvain have missed it before? The way Felix leans into the touch, tracing the heat after Dimitri pulls away, if only for the tenth of a second. He is so controlled, so tightly laced, that it’s always these tiny things that slip through the cracks that give away the depth of his feelings. 

Sylvain licks his lips, and considers them. They wouldn’t last a week in a relationship. Felix would probably tear Dimitri apart. The thought is strangely arousing. Handling Felix’s moods is an art Sylvain and Sylvain alone can claim mastery of, but the idea of Dimitri snapping at Felix for his brattish behavior and ordering him to kneel before him—

Sylvain gulps.

Okay, he’s hard now, in the middle of a small council meeting. It’s not his fault though; Felix looks pretty on his knees, _especially_ when he pretends he doesn’t want to be. And Dimitri... Well, Dimitri cleaned up well after the war. Just because Sylvain never thought of it before, doesn’t mean he isn’t thinking it now.

He crosses his legs, discreetly pressing the palm of his hand into his crotch. Dimitri and Felix bicker on, not quite friends, not quite something more. A devious idea forms in his mind. 

It’s easy to get Felix a little tipsy. He has little to no alcohol tolerance, and easily gets sidetracked by something he’s passionate about — ranging from Dimitri’s latest tax reform proposal to a rumored Zoltan sword. Sylvain easily can keep refilling his glass until an utterly delicious blush covers Felix’s cheeks.

That’s when he pops the question. “Do you think His Majesty is lonely?” 

Felix scoffs. “No.” 

“You sure?” Sylvain says, snaking his arm around Felix’s waist, running his fingers over his muscled stomach. “I think he has been looking a bit sad ever since Dedue left for Duscur.” 

“We see him every day.” 

“ _You_ see him every day,” Sylvain counters. “For work. But a man needs leisure too. He looks _so_ tense.” 

“That’s just how he looks.” 

“I guess you’re probably right,” Sylvain says with faked relief, readying his final weapon. “I suppose I’m just afraid he’ll start slipping again, and like last time we won’t notice until it is too late.” 

Felix stiffens. “He’s not slipping. He isn’t. I would have noticed.” Then, after a long pause: “Do you really think….?” He can’t even say the words, but the pained look in his eyes is almost sweet. Why can’t he just admit he cares about Dimitri? 

Sylvain let’s go of Felix and falls down on his bed instead, the very picture of nonchalance. “You just said he wasn’t. And you see him every day, so if _anyone_ would know, it’s you. Besides Dimitri himself, of course.” 

“Right. He’s fine,” Felix says, but Sylvain can see the seed of doubt has been planted.

The next day, Felix hovers around Dimitri like a shadow, more so than he already does. He's as subtle about it as a dog, his troubled gaze constantly glued to Dimitri’s back. There is no way Dimitri could miss it, but the King is too polite to say anything about it. Instead, his shoulders draw up a little higher, he hesitates a bit more with every step, and his entire body screams anxiety. 

Sylvain almost feels bad about his plan succeeding so magnificently. But he can’t find it in himself to feel guilty when Dimitri approaches him two days later, looking pale from sleep loss. 

“What troubles you, Your Majesty?” 

“I’m afraid I’ve come to ask that of you. Or rather, what ails Felix,” Dimitri says in that grave way of speaking he has adopted of late. “Of course, in no way do I wish to make you betray the integrity of your relationship with him, but if you could give me a few pointers on what I have done wrong, I would be in your debt.”

“Have you asked Felix?” 

“I have. He insists nothing is wrong, and yet…” 

“He follows you like a puppy, only far scarier?” Dimitri has the gall to look sheepish at that. “He’s just worried about you, Your Majesty. Frankly, I’m a little too. You’ve looked better, to say it kindly,” Sylvain adds, and tries to look as concerned as he can. 

Dimitri bows his head. “My apologies. The issue with the new taxation laws in former Alliance territories is keeping me up at night.” 

Sylvain coughs, and raises a single eyebrow. 

“And Felix, too,” Dimitri adds quickly.

Sylvain smiles. “Oh, he keeps me up at night too.” He adds a salacious wink for good measure.

The effect is nothing short of beautiful. “ _Sylvain!”_

“What? It’s the truth!” He says, easily hiding his satisfaction at seeing the King of Fodlan blush like an untried maiden. “You know what? Why don’t you come and have dinner with us in my room tonight. We’ll catch up, talk like old times, relax a little. It will ease Felix off your back and take your mind off those finicky taxations laws.” 

“I wouldn’t wish to impose on your personal space.” 

_Hook, line, sinker_. “Okay, then we’ll go to your chambers. Do the King’s chambers still have a private dining room?” 

“They do, but…,” Dimitri says, but then straightens his posture, easily towering over Sylvain. _Kinda hot._ “Of course, you and Felix are most welcome. But only if you want to. Please, don’t trouble yourself for your benefit.”

“We’ll be there at six, alright?” 

Dimitri nods, looking a little lighter already. Sylvain mentally pats himself on the back for being a good friend. “But only if Felix wants to come.” 

Sylvain can’t repress a chuckle “Oh, don’t worry, Felix wants to.” 

He’s not wrong of course. He already laid the groundwork earlier this week, and when he tells Felix that he cajoled Dimitri into having dinner together, Felix joins ‘just to make sure he isn’t skipping meals again.’

_Of course,_ Sylvain thinks, _whatever helps you sleep at night._

He tells Felix about the bottle of wine he hides in his bag. He keeps his mouth shut about the bottle of lube he takes with him too. If push comes to shove, his reputation as a slut will cover his bases anyway.

When the evening arrives and they knock on Dimitri’s door, it takes him less than a few seconds to open up. Dimitri is dressed in casual clothing that Sylvain has never seen before. The dark grey tunic suits his complexion, brings out his eyes, and far more importantly, shows exactly how good the past few months of peace and good food have been for Dimitri’s physique. 

Sylvain openly wolfwistles, but the way Felix’s eyes widen when he takes him in is far more telling. 

“Come in,” Dimitri says awkwardly. “I’m glad you could make it too, Felix.” 

“My rooms are two floors down. It’s not like it’s a big effort.” 

“Even so, I am grateful,” Dimitri says, his hand twitching at his side. “I told the cook to serve your favorites, Felix. They shot a peasant just this afternoon, so the meat should be fresh.” 

Felix looks away awkwardly, so unlike he does in the council room or on the battlefield. In here he’s stripped of his armor - real or proverbial. There are no discussions to be had, no wars to be won. There is only them: Dimitri, Felix and Sylvain, and all the emotions that they repress.

Dorothea tells him it’s a typically Faerghus thing; choke on your vulnerabilities until you die, and then be sainted in death for your strength. Maybe she’s right. Maybe she’s just upset that Ingrid doesn’t seem to notice that she wants to get into her pants. 

Whatever it is, the way Felix and Dimitri awkwardly sit on opposite ends of a sofa, unable to hold any sort of casual conversation for longer than a minute before falling into some kind of forbidden territory that would involve them, emotions and talking about said emotions, in one sentence. They bite their tongues, cut off whatever they were going to say, and let an awkward silent rest for a minute or so, before starting the process all over again.

Sylvain lets them suffer for a bit, drawing themselves tighter than Cornelia’s corsets. He has no taste for war, but he’s a tactician at heart all the same, and strategizing social situations is entirely up his alley. 

When the food arrives, Felix digs in with a vengeance, throwing half his manners out of the window in frustration. Dimitri watches him fondly, picking at his own food like he is indifferent to it, taking only enjoyment out of seeing Felix devour his food. 

Sylvain politely eats his own food, holds up the conversation, and waits for his moment to strike. It comes in the form of a bit of gravy just left of Felix’s upper lip.

“Darling,” he says tenderly, like it is something he says often, like it is something Felix allows himself to be called on the regular. 

_(It isn’t, but a man can dream, aye?)_

“You’ve got something here.” Sylvain points at his lip, purposefully lower than it actually is.

It has the desired effect. Dimitri’s eyes go wide. Although their friends know of their relationship, they normally keep all PDA to the privacy of their rooms. 

Felix’s eyes go wide, shifting desperately between him and the King, quickly flushing bright red. _“Don’t call me that here,”_ he hisses in a way that is absolutely, unfairly hot. Okay, Sylvain might be a little biased. 

“Who cares, it’s just Dimitri. We don’t have to hide from him, right? You’re not scared of him, right?” 

Felix’s eyes sharpen like a blade. “ _Sylvain_.” 

On cue, Dimitri jumps in. “Please, do not hold back on my account,” he says, sounding uncomfortable. “You know I’m nothing but supportive of you finding love in each other.” 

The way he says _love_ is an entire opera of its own. Okay, so maybe Dorothea _was_ onto something. 

Sylvain leans forward, a lecherous smile on his face. He might be enjoying this a bit too much, but it’s not every day he gets to see Felix so worked up. Even if this doesn’t work, the sex afterward will be great.

“See?” He teases, twirling a stray lock of dark hair between his fingers, acutely aware of the way Dimitri’s eye follows every movement. “He doesn't mind. He might even like to _watch_.” 

He doesn’t give Felix time to react, but Dimitri’s scandalized intake of breath is answer enough. Sylvain closes his eyes and surges forward, kissing Felix in a way he knows he loves it, a little bit of teeth and a little bit of tongue, demanding and hungry. He curls his fingers into his hair, pulling it out of its cue in a way that makes Felix look utterly fuckable. Felix growls into the kiss, pushing back in a way that could be mistaken for passion.

It’s only a moment, but when they pull apart and Sylvain opens his eyes again, the furious look on Felix’s face only compliments his kiss-bitten lips. 

_“Sylvain,”_ he growls again, sounding a little breathless. 

Sylvain sits back in his chair, not bothering hiding his smile. “Sorry, your Majesty,” he says, not bothering to sound sorry at all.

“D-don’t w-worry about it,” Dimitri stutters, his voice high and breathless.

Felix’s eyes go wide, as if he had already forgotten again that Dimitri was there. They both turn to the King, who has bent his spoon in two, who bit his lips so hard a thin trail of blood drips down. _That_ Dimitri, who looks at Felix as if he is seeing the stars and the moon for the first time in his life; utterly captivated.

Sylvain bets his entire inheritance that Dimitri’s pants suddenly got a little tighter. 

“What?” Felix snarls defensively. 

Dimitri forcibly shuts his own mouth. “N-nothing.” 

“Then don’t stare at me like that.” 

“M-my apologies, Felix.” 

“And _you,”_ he continues, turning back to Sylvain. “Cut that out.” 

“Or else?” 

“Or you’ll die a painful death by my blade.”

“Kinky.” 

_“Sylvain!”_ Felix and Dimitri shriek at the same time, oddly in sync in their horrification.

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain says, making it clear that he’s really not at all. “But you looked so delicious right there. Didn’t he, Dimitri?” 

It’s the use of his name that always draws a reaction out of Dimitri, which is why Sylvain uses it so sparingly. The King gulps, looking thorn between the truth and everything he is as a person. In the end, he nods tensely.

It’s only the slightest of movements, but it’s enough to draw Felix’s gaze. There is a history between the two of them beyond even what Sylvain knows, but he’s pretty sure they have never looked at each other before like this, openly staring, silently admitting that maybe, _maybe,_ there is a little bit of sexual tension between them.

If not for Sylvain, he knows, they would leave it at glances like this and never progress beyond it. Felix is not shy in the bedroom, and Dimitri is not naive, but they would never do what always worked for Sylvain: fuck the problems out of their system.

Which brings him to part two of his plan. “So, Your Majesty. You said before that the thought of Felix kept you up all night.” 

“That is _not_ what I meant when I said that!” Dimitri sputters.

Felix makes a strangled sound from the back of his throat, and Sylvain knows that he’s either going to die very soon, or his plan is working. 

He’s betting on the latter. “So you’re telling me Felix isn’t desirable?” 

“I—- _Sylvain_ , you— _of course,_ but—” 

“Sylvain I will end you if you don’t keep your mouth shut right now.” 

“Oh stop pretending you’ve never imagined Dimitri joining us in the bedroom,” Sylvain bluffs. He doesn’t actually think Felix has, but the way his eyes shift away tells him that maybe his wild guess wasn’t so wrong. 

“I’m not a degenerate like you,” Felix snarls back.

“I know I have,” he lies. “Call it degenerate, call it honest. But what’s wrong with a little bit of fun among friends to blow off steam, right? I’d ask Ingrid to join in too, if she was into men.” 

“I would never wish to interfere in your shared happiness,” Dimitri says hoarsely, sounding so grave and sincere that Sylvain actually wants to kiss him, do things to him until the proper royal starts swearing like a sailor. 

“Relax, Your Kingliness,” Sylvain says, angling his neck in a way he knows shows off his features best. “Just a little fun to help you sleep, alright? No dramatic love declarations, nothing. Besides, Felix and I have been talking about shaking up our love life. A threesome could be fun, don’t you think?” 

He turns to Felix, who looks hot in a scandalized way. “You can’t be serious.” 

But Sylvain is feeling a little self-destructive tonight — frankly has felt that way for years, ever since he had to kill former classmates to survive. He draws Felix into his lap, and presses a sincere kiss against his lips. “We don’t have to. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want either,” he whispers. “I just thought you wanted this.” 

Felix looks away, drawing into himself but not leaning away from Sylvain’s touch. “I—” 

“Whatever you want, precious,” Sylvain says softly, and means it from the bottom of his heart. “I just want to make you happy.”

After a very long moment, Felix finally nods. “Okay then. But only if Dimitri—” 

“ _Yes,_ ” Dimitri says, sounding far more eager than Sylvain had anticipated. “Felix, Sylvain, I may — _will_ , probably — disappoint you, but to have your trust and affection like this, after all we’ve been through… means the world to me.” 

Felix turns to him then. “Shut up,” he says, somehow making it sound kind. “It’s just sex.” 

Dimitri’s eyes go a little wild. 

“Easy tiger,” Sylvain interjects diplomatically. “Just making out is also fine, Your Majesty. We don’t have to go all the way if you’d like to save yourself for marriage.” 

Dimitri gulps. “That is… good to k-know, I suppose.”

Like always, once Felix has made up his mind, he gets right on to it. “What are you waiting for, then? Or are you just going to sit there and watch.”

“N-now?” 

“Anytime you’re comfortable,” Sylvain adds smoothly before Felix can say something harmful, and then quickly captures Felix’s lips for good measure. He kneads his hands into Felix’s backside, palming his ass through his pants and making Felix moan. He always likes it when Sylvain is a bit rough with him, and Sylvain has always had an exhibitionistic streak a mile wide. Showing off Felix, his lover and his partner, is just fuel to a flame that has been burning for years.

When he pulls away from Felix, Dimitri sounds more breathless than the two of them combined.

“I have a bedroom,” Dimitri offers, his hand pressed to the front of his pants. “I-if you would—” 

Felix all but jumps off Sylvain and leads the way, like the place belongs to him. It’s false bravado, he knows that, but Sylvain is more than willing to let him take the lead because it means Dimitri will naturally follow along. God, it’s like their childhood all over again, isn’t it?

He’s never been to the King’s bedroom, but the lavishly decorated canopy bed is larger than it has any right to be. “Do you really sleep alone here every night?” 

“O-of course!” Dimitri sputters back, but his eyes never leave Felix. 

“Such a waste of a good bed,” Sylvain teases. “Want to break it in together?” 

Dimitri looks a little scared. “It’s a priceless piece of furniture, passed down from monarch to monarch for generations—”

“I didn’t mean actually break it.” 

“Oh!” Dimitri says, sounding a little clumsy in a way that is almost adorable. 

Sylvain smiles easily and guides his King onto the bed, Felix following them quickly. Dimitri isn’t exactly his type _(not bitchy enough)_ but there is something about his earnestness that is refreshing. He lets himself fall back onto the royal blue sheets. They’re softer than his own back in his room two floors down, which is just bad hospitality. 

Oh well, Dimitri can make it up to him. He balls his fists in Dimitri’s shirt and slowly pulls him closer, well aware that Felix is watching them like a hawk. He gives his King every opportunity to move away and Felix every chance to protest, but when they don’t, he gives in to temptation and presses his lips to Dimitri’s. 

He quickly discovers that kissing Dimitri is fun. He's a puzzling combination of hesitant and passionate, and so utterly sincere that it makes Sylvain want to coo at him. 

When they pull apart Dimitri puts his fingers to his lips, looking in awe.

“First kiss?” Sylvain asks.

“No,” Dimitri admits. “But it has been a long time. I had forgotten what it could feel like.” And then he refuses to elaborate. 

His words trigger something in Felix that Sylvain has never seen before. In Sylvain’s sexy daydreams — it’s not like he has a job or anything better to do with his time — Felix and Dimitri descent upon each other like wolves, finally unleashing years of sexual tension upon each other, tearing each other apart until they’re both spent, and then, when it’s out of their systems, they’ll finally be friends like they used to be again. A happy ending for all.

In reality, when Felix pulls Dimitri closer to him, it’s nothing like that. He’s tender, soft even. His fingers tremble, but he never breaks eye contact with Dimitri, not even when Dimitri mutters a broken: _“Felix…”_

Their kiss is nothing like the playful pecking he just exchanged with Dimitri. Sylvain knows he’s not a terribly great kisser, nothing that warrants the expression on Felix's face when Dimitri leans in, or the downright wanton sounds that escape him when Dimitri opens up his mouth and lets himself be kissed.

Sylvain doesn't get it, not really. 

The way they slot into each other wordlessly surprises him; he expected they needed a lot more work to get to this level of intimacy, but once the floodgates are open their bodies find a way to each other, perfectly fitting together.

Something dark brews in his chest, but only for a second. He quickly squashes it by moving behind Felix, and pressing his erection against his ass, searching for every little button and clasp that keeps his frankly ridiculous outfit together. 

Usually, Felix gets impatient with foreplay quickly. But he doesn’t even seem to notice Sylvain’s hands roaming his chest, slowly undressing him. When he breaks apart from Dimitri, he is still looking at him.

“Felix,” Dimitri mutters again, and Felix’s little gasp is almost cute.

“Okay, so you have the make-out part figured out. Good to know we’re not working with a total virgin here,” Sylvain says, trying to sound unbothered. 

Dimitri shifts, suddenly awkward again, giving Sylvain the opportunity to draw Felix away and into a kiss of his own. He usually doesn’t like manhandling Felix, but something he can’t quite place is roaring in his chest, urging him to throw Felix onto the bed and fuck him until he scream any other name than his own. 

(Or maybe to throw him over his shoulder and take him far far away from here, where nobody can ever find him and they can be together forever, alone.)

Felix goes down as willingly as is to be expected, which is to say, not at all. He claws at Sylvain’s clothes, nips at his tongue, threatening to bite for real. And Sylvain takes it all, until they’re both naked and panting, with Felix sitting on top of him.

“So,” Sylvain drawls out, not bothering to hide how smug he feels about this change of pace. “Be honest Dimitri. Do you know how this goes.”

“I know the basics,” Dimitri says quickly.

Sylvain magics the lube from his bag, drawing an annoyed whisper of ‘slut’ from Felix’s lips. “I didn’t mean Gustave’s farce of a talk when we came of age.” He uncorks the bottle, letting the clear liquid fall on his fingers. It’s cold, but Felix never seems to mind. “It’s a little different between men, for one.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you now?” Sylvain teases him.

“Sylvain,” Felix warns him.

“Just making sure everyone is still on board with this, sweetheart. Don’t want to scar our poor King for life.”

“I’m not entirely innocent, Sylvain.”

“Care to share?”

“I lived in the slums of Fhirdiad for over a year, Sylvain. One cannot remain innocent after witnessing the things I have seen there.”

Felix stiffens on top of him, like he always does when Dimitri ventures into dangerous territory. Not good, Sylvain thinks. He needs Felix at least slightly cooperative for this to work. 

“Let’s give you a good memory to replace the bad ones, then,” he says gently. “Would you like to watch us first?”

Dimitri nods, and Felix’s shoulders become a little less tense. Emergency averted, ten points for team Gautier. 

He turns his attention back to Felix, offering him the bottle. “Ready, sweetheart?” 

Felix snarls, but snatches the bottle of lube from his hands anyway. “Don’t call me that.”

Sylvain doesn’t reply, instead he wraps his lubed hand around Felix’s cock. It’s a decent size, neither big nor small, but he never gets tired of touching him, drawing these little sounds from Felix’s lips. 

It’s enough of a go-ahead apparently. Felix lifts himself a little higher on his knees — probably not intending to give Dimitri an eyeful of his ass — and then starts circling his rim.

Sylvain can’t exactly see what he’s doing, but the sight of Felix on top of him, preparing himself for his cock is one he never grows tired of. The little fucked-out noises as he adds another finger, always a bit too quick — oh yeah he doesn’t need to see at all, his mind can make up the details just fine enough. Sylvain palms his own dick eagerly, spreading the lube generously. Felix is never quite thorough enough with this preparation, and the stretch remains utterly delicious. He can’t imagine it’s painless, but Felix won’t accept any alternative, so Sylvain rolls with it.

He sneaks a peek at Dimitri. As expected, he’s absolutely bewitched by the sight of Felix fingering himself. The King is still fully clothed, but there is a suspicious tenting in his pants that betrays exactly how much he is enjoying this already.

_Right,_ Sylvain thinks. _Time to show him how it’s done._

With that thought in mind he pulls Felix forward, shamelessly pushing his hard cock between his asscheeks, rubbing against his hand.

“Insatiable…,” Felix mutters, but there is a playful glint in his eyes that truly betrays him. 

Sylvain smiles. “Guilty.”

Felix rolls his eyes, but pulls his fingers out anyway. Dimitri’s gasps, but Felix isn’t paying attention to him for the first time tonight. Instead he takes Sylvain’s cock, lifts himself on top of it, and then lets gravity do the rest. 

Sylvain groans loudly, without any shame. Anyone who ever had the pleasure of fucking Felix’s tight little ass would have long abandoned shame too. Felix is mostly silent as he takes Sylvain all the way in one go, impatient as always, but the way he bites his lips is utterly delicious.

Sylvain puts his hands on his hips, and moves him a little, feeling a little delirious with want, with the need to claim him inside out. Felix takes the hint and starts moving without abandon, powerful thighs moving up and down.

“ _Fuck_ , Felix,” Sylvian groans, bucking up wildly. “Take it easy tiger.”

Felix doesn’t. If anything, he becomes even wilder, less controlled. The cause quickly becomes clear: Dimitri has abandoned his previous position and instead chosen to put his hands on Felix’s shoulder. He’s not exerting any pressure, but apparently just the mere thought of him makes Felix ride his cock like it is his sole purpose in life.

And the sounds he makes — Oh, yes this was a good idea. Sylvain has those sometimes. 

Dimitri moves one hand, only a little, until it rests against the crook of Felix’s neck. He doesn’t see Felix’s eyes go wide at that, but Sylvain does, as is he privy to the way Felix tightens around his cock, his ass like a vice.

“Goddess, _fuck,_ Felix!” Sylvain curses, bucking his hips up uncontrollably, holding on to Felix’s hips like it is his only lifeline which it very well might be because Felix doesn’t stop riding him until Sylvain uses all his strength to pull him as far on his cock as the laws of the universe allow him, and comes violently.

Felix quickly pulls off him, and the second spurt of cum lands on ass, his balls and his still hard cock.

“Couldn’t you have given me a warning,” Felix grumbles, a blush high on his cheeks.

Sylvain groans, unable to answer. If Felix didn’t want him to come inside, he shouldn’t have ridden him like that, he thinks. But he’s too fucked out to bother right now.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath. When he does, he remembers that Dimitri is still here. He quickly puts a smile on his face, which isn’t hard after cuming that hard. “So, your Majesty… How was that?’

Dimitri opens and closes his mouth several times before answering. “It was very special,” he says, sounding strangled. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

Sylvain is about to say no problem when Felix turns around, facing Dimitri instead of Sylvain. “We’re not done.”

“We’re not?” Dimitri asks, mirroring Sylvain’s thoughts.

Felix — even with cum still dripping from his asscrack, among other places — still manages to look intimidating when he puts his hands on his hips like that. Sylvain’s tired cock twitches with interest.

“We’re not,” Felix says, and then moves forward like a man possessed.

Okay, so those daydreams he’d had about Felix and Dimitri? Apparently, there was some truth to them, because the way Felix dives forward to capture Dimitri’s lips is nothing short of feral. And Dimitri is too far gone from watching them fuck to do anything but wrap his arms around Felix’s bare shoulders kiss him back as hard as Felix demands it. They kiss like they need it more than anything in the world, like they’ve suddenly seen the light and it’s somewhere in each other’s throats.

It’s kind of hot, to see Felix so worked up like this, to see Dimitri claw at his back, grinding his clothed cock against him. Like they’re the only thing in the world that matters, completely ignorant of everything — every _one_ else. Sylvain’s stomach turns, and not in a pleasant way.

The sound of fabric ripping pulls them out of their own little world. 

“Boar,” Felix groans, but Sylvain knows that look. It means he is actually turned on by the way Dimitri apparently has ripped his new fancy dress shirt. 

“Ah,” Dimitri says, blushing more than a little. “I will have to apologize to the seamstress tomorrow.”

Sylvain can’t see him, but he can almost hear the way Felix rolls his eyes. “Don’t be wasteful. Let me.”

And like generations of Fraldariuses before him, he goes down to his knees before his king. Sylvain is pretty sure his ancestors didn’t do it with the purpose to unbuckle the King’s belt, to undo the laces of his trousers and shove the entire garment down to the ground. 

Dimitri steps out of his pants, hiding this barely clothed erection behind his hands. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, Your Majesty,” Sylvain says, more than a little eager to see what the royal scepter is nice. Dimitri always did refuse to bathe with them back at the academy. 

Dimitri nods to Sylvain, looking grateful but not in the least bit encouraged. It isn’t until Felix — with far more gentleness than Sylvain would have thought him capable of — pushes his hands away slowly, that Dimitri allows himself to get rid of his underwear.

In retrospect, this was a bad decision. Sylvain’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets at the sight of the royal cock. “Okay, that’s just unfair!” 

“My apologies.”

Dimitri has the gall to look uncomfortable, like he is _inconvenienced_ by having the fucking largest cock Sylvain has ever seen. One thing is sure, and that weapon is going nowhere near his ass.

He turns to Felix, but the joke dies on his lips before he can utter it. He’s seen that look on the face of several girls before, right before he first opened his pants. He’s not lacking in that department at all, and there is always this glorious moment when a girl would first lay eyes on his cock. Some of them would gulp, suddenly having second thoughts about losing their virginity to him. But some would look like Felix does right now; like he wants nothing more than to eat all of it.

Felix didn’t look at his dick like that the first time they had sex. But he’s looking at Dimitri’s right now, and it’s making Sylvain feel a little sick.

“Don’t feel obligated— “ Dimitri starts, but Felix cuts him off.

“Shut up,” he says, and then moves forward with all the speed he usually reserves for the battlefield. Dimitri gasps when Felix’s lips engulf his cock, when Felix keeps going, never one to know his own limits, until he is gagging on that cock.

And he doesn’t stop. He sucks Dimitri’s cock like it was all he ever wanted to do, like he wants nothing more than for Dimitri to fuck the breath out of him. 

“Oh, Felix,” Dimitri groans loudly, his voice dark, fingers curling into Felix’s hair in a way that must hurt like hell. “You’re so beautiful. So perfect.”

Felix hates empty praise, except right now apparently because he doubles his pace, his cock leaking pre-cum on the ground.

And just when Dimitri starts to become loud, when Sylvain thinks it is finally done, Dimitri gently pulls Felix off his cock. Felix looks up at him, his pupils blown wide with lust and his lips red from the stretch.

“I want you,” Dimitri says, so earnestly, so gently, and yet there is no mistaking the desire in his voice. “All of you.”

Felix nods. “Okay,” he says, uncharacteristically pliant. He settles down on the bed, within reach of Sylvain yet never reaching for him. He spreads his legs, a slightly cocky look in his eyes that would look challenging if he didn’t look so utterly smitten with Dimitri.

(With Dimitri. Not Sylvain.)

Dimitri’s cock is still wet from Felix’s mouth, and it looks even bigger now that he’s fully hard. God, that’s going to hurt, isn’t it. The thought shouldn’t make Sylvain happy, but he’s feeling a little mean right now. Maybe if it hurts, Felix will never want to have something so big up his ass again, and come back to Sylvain’s cock.

“Are you ready?”

“What do you think?” Felix taunts back.

Dimitri kneels between Felix’s spread legs. “Just making sure you’re both okay with this still,” he says. He sends a sweet look at Sylvain. Ah, good to know that at least one of them has not forgotten he’s there. 

Felix is a goner the second Dimitri positions his cock against his entrance and starts pushing in. It should hurt, even as fucked open from their previous round as he should still be. It should hurt, but when Dimitri slowly sheathes himself inside him, Felix moans like a wanton whore, like it is the best thing he has ever felt.

“Goddess, Dimitri….,” he groans.

“You take me so well, Felix,” Dimitri pants, slowly bottoming out, staring at Felix like he is the sun, the stars and the moon itself. 

Felix wraps his legs around Dimitri. “ _Fuck me,”_ he demands. 

And Dimitri does as commanded. He’s strong, legendary so, and when he starts moving Felix’s entire body shakes with every thrust. 

Sylvain watches them fuck, slow but deep, so completely entangled both body and soul that he can’t quite tell where one begins and where the other ends. It’s poetic, and it would be romantic if it wasn’t the love of his life losing his mind in the arms of his king. 

He’s not aroused anymore. How could he be, when Felix cries Dimitri’s name, when Dimitri bites marks in Felix’s skin exactly the way Felix likes it, without ever being told? 

This was his plan, he reminds himself. His idea. Felix is his, and this is just one night of fun which will benefit all of them in the long run. But no matter how often he repeats it in his mind, the feeling of dread doesn’t go away. 

Sylvain caresses Felix’s hand, kisses his lips, strokes his cock the way he knows he likes it. But Felix doesn’t look his way, not once. He doesn’t even close his eyes, like he usually does, but he keeps looking at Dimitri, making little wondrous fucked-out noises that Sylvain only rarely gets to hear.

“I’m—” Dimitri grunts, slamming his cock deeper into Felix, who howls in pleasure. “I’m close. Felix, please, I— “ 

It’s the tone of his voice, the way Felix’s cock twitches in response to it, that makes him feel — it’s not jealousy, he thinks. This feels more like the minutes before diving into battle, scared shitless that you won’t come out alive, that you’re going to lose everything you’ve fought for.

“Don’t come inside him,” Sylvain asks, unable to keep the smile on his face now. “He doesn’t like it when—”

“No, I don’t mind,” Felix pants immediately, misunderstanding the situation entirely because it is Sylvain that doesn’t want Dimitri to claim this part of Felix too. “ _Please_ , Dimitri. Please, don’t stop.” 

“Goddess, how I’ve dreamed of this,” Dimitri confesses, and starts speeding up, setting a savage pace, his chest pressed against Felix, completely trapping him underneath him.

“Fuck me,” Felix begs, for once completely unhindered by shame. “Don’t stop. Fill me, I want it all.” 

Dimitri goes berserk upon hearing that, and he probably doesn’t mean to knock Sylvain aside when he does, monstrous strength and all, but Sylvain finds it hard to be magnanimous when his lover seems happy about the change. Felix lets go of Sylvain’s hand and instead wraps his arms around Dimitri’s neck, drawing him in closer, kissing him deeply as Dimitri speeds up, his hands on Felix’s hips, leaving finger-shaped bruises on his pale skin, marking him.

“Fe— “

“Mitya, I— “

They come at the same time, Dimitri buried deep inside Felix while said man moans his name like the most eager cockslut Sylvain has ever seen. And Sylvain just sits there, watching, his erection gone, feeling like he has just lost the most vulnerable thing in the world.

* * *

It's been six months - six forgettable, insignificant months - since he and Felix got together. 

(What's half a year compared to a lifetime — no, _a lineage_ — of devotion?) 

During the day, Felix sits at Dimitri's right hand, working together seamlessly. Sometimes their hands touch, and it will make them both pause and smile. Their friendship has changed since that one night, and everyone can tell it too. Ingrid even congratulated him on it, wrongly thinking it was his doing. 

She’s not wrong. But she’s not right either.

At night, Sylvain can tell Felix is thinking about Dimitri, too. 

"Not now, Sylvain," he says when Sylvain asks him to join him in his chambers tonight. "I have a long day tomorrow."

Sylvain bites his tongue. A long day with Dimitri. 

They haven’t fucked since then, Sylvain knows. Felix and Dimitri are both too honorable to go behind his back like that. But it’s not hard to notice that they’re both looking for a round two, or three, or four. 

It was his plan. Dimitri and Felix are happier than they were before, it’s plain as day. At night, lying alone in a bed that is both too big and not big enough, Sylvain wonders if they would be even happier if he would give in to his father’s ceaseless summons for him to return to Gautier, to take up his birthright and leave them to theirs. 

Kyphon and Loog. Fraldarius and Blaiddyd. Felix and Dimitri. 

He clenches his eyes shut, and refuses to cry. Felix promised him to die together, but he never promised him his life. Does he really want to watch the man he loves suffer by his side because his pride won’t allow him to leave Sylvain? Or maybe he will come in tomorrow, with Dimitri by his side, informing him that regretfully, their relationship did not work out. That he is with Dimitri now. That he loves Dimitri.

_(Did he ever stop? Why did Sylvain let himself believe that Felix ever stopped chasing after Dimitri?)_

Sylvain sits up in bed, blinking the tears from his eyes, all thought of sleep far from his mind. He doesn’t want to wait for that inevitable moment. He packs his bags that same night and rides out by daylight, leaving only two short letters behind: one for Felix, and one for Ingrid. None for Dimitri, who has received enough of him.

When Sylvain crosses the river that separates Itha from the road to Gautier, he burns the bridge behind him. He’s always been good at that.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry Sylvain.
> 
> I'll leave it up to the reader if Sylvain completely misinterpreted the situation and they eventually become a happy threesome, or if he was right and Dimilix become a couple after this. I know what I think will happen. Hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
